Scars and Sanguine
by UnderdogHero
Summary: Bakugo was a little too interested in Monoma's scars. On Monoma's side, he didn't like this at all.


A/N: This took like a month to finish and Zephyr actually got theirs uploaded first so the pressure was on.

Set somewhere before or after season 4 and definitely borders on AU.

(Technically part three of a kinda-AU. Hooray for writing things out of order.)

**.**

"What about this one?"

Bakugo ran his index finger along the thin scar that seemed to curve along the blonde's right shoulder blade, feeling him squirm slightly at the touch.

"Cut me while I was turning around." Monoma said, voice shaking slightly. Bakugo didn't know if it was because of the memories or his touch, but he scoffed anyway.

"You turned your back on a villain? Idiot." He said, looking down. He poked at a string of what looked like they were puncture wounds once. Monoma made a sound of protest.

"A lot happens on the field." Bakugo poked at the scars again, earning a small whine. "G-got grabbed by a villain with studded armor. There used to be more, b-but they healed better."

He heard Bakugo hum as his hands continued to roam, shivering as warm fingertips brushed over particularly thick – and fresh – claw marks on his lower back.

He froze when a hand came to rest on his left hip, palm pressed to the blast-like burn scar that was at least six inches in diameter.

"And this?" Bakugo asked, leaning forward slightly. Monoma felt his breath against his back, and he bit his lip.

"Um... You did that."

He said it awkwardly, quietly, but Bakugo still heard him. He snatched his hand away, surprised, and glanced up at Monoma's face. His cheeks were tinted pink, mostly from embarrassment – even his classmates didn't see him like this often. Bakugo just happened to catch him on his way back from his internship, apparently in a bad mood because some kid from another class said he was "villainous", and dragged him to their usual spot in the gardens behind the dorms to vent.

Of course he'd noticed the way Monoma winced when he leaned down under the trees, and how his hero outfit was more scuffed and dirty on one side. And of course he'd immediately demanded to see what was wrong, because ignoring it would defeat the purpose of this visit.

_"If you're hurt then go to Recovery Girl, dammit!"_

He'd tried to argue that it was none of his business and Recovery Girl was busy anyway, so he'd had no choice to return to the dorms instead. Bakugo immediately forced him to sit down and remove his shirt.

"You're only being nice because you're in a bad mood." He muttered. Bakugo snorted.

"If you know that, then let me help." He growled, pressing his palm to the sore and bruising spot on Monoma's side like he did earlier, hands heating up slightly. Just enough to warm the skin and ease the pain.

Monoma sighed, hugging his coat tighter to his chest and bringing his knees closer. He didn't know why Bakugo was so distracted by his scars, but with the way he was _still_ touching each one of them, Monoma didn't want to risk him seeing the ones at the front. It was awkward enough with the way his skin tingled with every brush of his fingers, especially over the newer ones.

He didn't like his scars. To him, they were proof of his mistakes, proof that he wasn't good enough. He could copy someone else's strength, yeah, but after five minutes he was the same as any civilian – as any _Quirkless_.

He'd heard it often when he was a child and his Quirk was just starting to manifest. He'd copied the Quirk of a boy that always bullied him for being a late bloomer, which had caused some confusion when he was unable to use it again less than a minute later. Then he copied the girl who always teased him for having blonde hair, and her friend that accused him of dyeing it later that same day. Another trip to the doctor later, and his Quirk was figured out.

Monoma sighed at the memories, remembering how he'd been singled out the moment it got out to the class. Nobody wanted their Quirk copied. So they told him he wasn't, not like them. They didn't need to rely on someone else's power. They had something special.

What did that say about him, the one that took their "special" and mocked them for it right back?

"Hey, Copycat." Bakugo's voice broke him out of his daze. "Don't go falling asleep on me" Monoma rolled his eyes.

"I'm not asleep." He said, straightening his back slightly. He winced at the sting at his side, but shoved the pain down. "It doesn't hurt anymore, can we just go back?"

"Liar. I can feel you leaning away from it."

"Maybe that's because there's this weirdo that's been feeling me up for the last twenty minutes."

Bakugo sputtered at that, hands immediately retreating. Monoma took that chance to slip his shirt on, wincing slightly at the pressure it put on his side, which thankfully _wasn't_ scarring – a broken rib or two was nothing new, it would heal – because he could only imagine how Bakugo would react to that.

He heard the other blonde mutter something, but thankfully he wasn't being stopped. So he folded up his coat and stuffed it into his backpack, intending to wash and mend it later, before digging back in and pulling out his school jersey. He paused in adjusting the sleeves.

"Bakugo?" He asked hesitantly, though he didn't know why he hesitated.

The other boy grunted in acknowledgement, sitting facing away from him. Monoma twisted the fabric around with his fingers.

"Why were you so interested?"

He could practically see the annoyed, confused look on Bakugo's face.

"Interested in what?" He huffed, and Monoma wasn't sure if he was playing dumb or if he really thought closely analyzing your not-really-friend's scars was normal.

He was friends with Kirishima. Maybe it _was_ normal for him.

"In… you know, these." He gestured awkwardly to his back, waving his hand over his shoulder and hoping that got the point across. "They're not exactly pretty."

Bakugo snorted, then turned around to face him, dirt and gravel crunching as he spun.

"Of course they're not. It's all broken skin and blood." Well, he wasn't wrong. "Besides, stuff like that doesn't need to be pretty."

"I don't like them." Monoma said immediately, gripping his wrist tightly. He could feel the mangled skin underneath, feel the long cut that ran from the wrist down to the elbow. He rubbed his tumb over it, as if trying to remove a smudge. "They mean I made a mistake, that I wasn't good enough."

Of course someone would figure out eventually that without his hands, he couldn't do anything. He couldn't harden the skin like Tetsutetsu or Kirishima to keep the blade from breaking skin, he couldn't blow it away with a blast of nitroglycerin like Bakugo. Everyone he knew could do something.

There was a rustling sound, and he blinked when Bakugo was suddenly in front of and grabbed his wrist, pushing the sleeve up. Monoma scowled, attempting to tug his arm away, but Bakugo growled something that sounded like "_if it's another broken bone I swear–_".

Monoma winced when he saw it, still as ugly as usual. He saw Bakugo glare, then frown, chewing his lip in thought like he was trying to word his next sentence carefully. Monoma didn't know why he bothered.

"I told you," He said slowly, curling his hand into a fist. "I made a mistake. A good hero wouldn't compromise themselves so stupidly."

"Well," There was a small pop as Bakugo opened his mouth. "I think if it took that much to knock you down, and you still got back up, you're one damn good hero."

… What the hell.

He blinked again, eyes hot and stinging. Bakugo pulled his sleeve back down, squeezing his wrist slightly before letting go and standing up. He smacked Monoma on the head as he passed.

"Now hurry the hell up. It's getting dark and I'm not walking your ass back to the dorms."

Monoma wiped his sleeves over his face, sighing deeply and grabbing his stuff before hurriedly standing up to follow.

He didn't want to say it out loud, but that was the nicest thing he's heard in a long time.

**.**

A/N: *_curls up on the floor and dies_* I did it.


End file.
